


Maypops

by Juvenoia



Series: Interlude [1]
Category: RWBY
Genre: Amputation, Angst, Angst and Humor, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canonical Character Death, Character Study, Disability, Family Bonding, Father-Daughter Relationship, Floriorgraphy, Fluff, Gen, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Language of Flowers, Long One Shot, Minor Original Character(s), One Shot, Panic Attacks, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Post-Volume 3 (RWBY), Pre-Volume 4 (RWBY), Recovery, References to Depression, Short Story, Wordcount: 10.000-30.000
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-15
Updated: 2020-03-15
Packaged: 2021-02-27 19:55:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 19,128
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22891363
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Juvenoia/pseuds/Juvenoia
Summary: It’s been a few months since the Fall of Beacon, and Yang Xiao Long decides today is the day she breaks her self-imposed isolation and leaves her room. Taiyang Xiao Long comes to some sobering realizations about himself and his approach to his daughter’s recovery. The two find the beginnings of common ground on the one day that dredges up unsavory memories: the anniversary of Summer Rose’s death.
Relationships: Summer Rose/Taiyang Xiao Long, Taiyang Xiao Long & Yang Xiao Long
Series: Interlude [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1664974
Comments: 6
Kudos: 16





	Maypops

**Author's Note:**

> Special thanks to Zow Earth for beta-ing this. Also to J. for encouraging me to keep going and V. for listening to my ideas while this story became something bigger than intended.
> 
> This is my first fan work ever published. Without you guys, this probably would have remained a pipe dream.

[1]

Yang Xiao Long was staring at the ceiling for the thousandth time in her life, upon a bed whose softness betrayed the stiffness growing in her back. It was another one of those early mornings, with her mind already churning before she opened her very eyes. She tried fruitlessly to throw up her walls and just exist in the darkness of the room. But there was a tingling in her residual limb, and something incessantly nibbling at the back of her mind. Groaning inwardly, she sat up arching her rigid back against the headboard. 

Her room was almost as barren as her ambitions now. There was a door to her left, and adjacent a desk, whose surface was cleared aside from a little picture frame. This frame had been the reason she refused to sleep on her left side. Even when it wasn’t in her view it burned in her mind, mocking her. It was a picture taken some time at Beacon with all four of her teammates, team RWBY. All four were smiling, but it was the raven-haired one, second from the right that always caught her eye. Some partner she turned out to be.

Anger and shame, those were always present in that moment. Yang had been turning it over in her mind for weeks now, content to just lie there and think about it. Today was different, and she found her feet beneath her and approaching the desk. She rested her left hand upon the top edge of the frame, taking a moment to study each face again. Her eyes narrowed on someone familiar, a girl much like herself. She was capable then. Happy, too. 

With a firm clack, the frame was tipped on its face. She refused to be ruled anymore.

Her sister had left it there just a day before she departed, perhaps as some gesture of good faith. Yang sighed. 

Always hoping for the best, that sounded just like Ruby. 

That was weeks ago now, and all Yang had done since then was lie there. She lifted her hand from the desk, truthfully feeling a bit lighter. Though, the blonde wasn’t sure if that was from getting up or childishly pushing over some picture. 

She fumbled with the door handle, unconsciously deciding to leave her self-imposed exile. Padding down the hall sluggishly, she stopped just before the ajar door to her old bedroom. The room was dead quiet, with sheets neatly tucked on both beds. Yang felt a little unnerved to be standing there, perhaps a little alien. Ruby and Yang used to share a room, but that changed after the Fall of Beacon. Taiyang opted to give his oldest daughter her own space to recover, a decision she later came to regret. Ruby tried in vain to connect with her afterward, from the moment she first saw her older sister to the night before she left for Haven. A twinge of guilt settled in the blonde’s chest. She refused to speak to anyone for a long time, preferring to just be. A moment ago, she was doing just that, and today of all days she decided to get up. 

_A little late for that._

Yang was too wrapped up in her own problems to realize Ruby needed her, too. Some big sister she was. Too much of a coward to even say she loved her back. She gave her head a little shake, conceding it was too late once more. 

The blonde began to turn heel, going nowhere in particular.

The sun was beginning to rise, casting its rays through the large windows of the kitchen and gently resting in the dining area. It was pleasant, something she hadn’t felt nor seen in what she considered an eternity. There was still that shadow lurking in the back of her mind, but the change of scenery certainly gave her some peace of mind.

She rested a hand on the back of a chair and slowly pulled it out. Sitting now, with one knee pulled up with her face resting on it she admired the horizon. It had to be early to mid-spring now. A few months since Beacon, a few weeks since Ruby’s departure, and only minutes since she decided to come down here for the first time in forever. Things were so slow now, be it the passage of time or just moving in general. She supposed confining herself to her room without much to do fed into that illusion. Pitiful is what it was, but Yang couldn’t help how she felt.

A sudden creak behind her caused her to jolt. Snapping her head in its direction, she saw her father appear in the doorway. His eyes grew wide upon seeing her as well. Taiyang seemed even more surprised than his daughter.

“Uh, hey, good morning,” he stated awkwardly, with a hint of drowsiness. 

Yang returned with a sheepish look to match his before muttering something similar. Inwardly she grimaced, it was happening again. She felt it growing between them, the tenuous air. Like he never quite knew how to approach or interact with her after the incident. Granted, she didn’t help much, holding everyone at arm’s length and refusing to speak. But with Taiyang in particular, it seemed like he didn’t know how to parent anymore, and it annoyed her to no end. She was still the same daughter he’d always had. Right?

“Do… you want any breakfast?”

She shook her head, realizing she’d been holding her breath. Yang’s eyes settled back to the table before her, wincing a bit at the dull stabbing in her stump. She absently wrapped her remaining hand around it. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught Taiyang watching her, concern in his eyes. Her agitation peaked a bit at that discovery, the last thing she needed was this. Staring had become a pet peeve of hers, especially ones drenched in pity. Ruby was guilty of doing it, too, but Tai’s roused something different altogether.

Some shuffling to the side followed by the clink of a glass before her caused the girl to lock eyes with her father. Taiyang pushed a glass of ice-cold milk towards her left side, with a wary smile.

“I could get that myself,” her voice was more tense than she expected. A small voice in the back of her head reminded her that was a lie.

Taiyang merely nodded, retrieving his food and settling down in the chair next to his daughter. “I know, I’m just doin’ my job as a dad, ya know.” He smiled earnestly, though Yang could tell it was forced.

Yang had made a habit of being careful when it came to grabbing things, moving at a snail’s pace was one of those adaptations. Everything became deliberate after the loss of her dominant hand. Carefully edging the glass closer to herself, she lifted it to her lips. Taiyang had paused, his fork hovering in place as he watched her. Again, he was doing it again.

She screwed her eyes shut and placed the beverage down with a bit more force than she anticipated. Trace droplets of milk littered the table, eliciting a groan from an already annoyed Yang. Her father was already up on his feet fetching a kitchen rag, causing even more embarrassment to flood over her. 

“Dammit,” she growled, growing incensed.

“It’s alright,” he soothed, making smooth motions across the table. Blue eyes met red, and suddenly Yang was standing, shaking ever so slightly. Her father had stopped, concern radiating off him in waves so large Yang could feel it even with her eyes closed. She took a deep breath and tried to collect herself.

Taiyang was at a loss, one hand holding a sopping rag, and the other uncertain if it should move to comfort the girl. His inaction earned him some relief when she finally opened her eyes again. The familiar lilac was dulled, and Yang lifted her hand to rest on her face. She seemed composed but sullen.

“I'm sorry,” she began quietly. “I just get so frustrated.”

“Yang…”

“No… just… no.”

Taiyang gave a sigh and returned to the task at hand. The mess was cleared in record time, and it left the blonde pinching the bridge of her nose. The tense silence was back tenfold now. The reason she chose to stay in the room eluded her, and she was back in the chair sometime later. Perhaps unconsciously she made herself stay, like some force threw on the brakes without her noticing. Nonetheless there she sat, embarrassed and a tinge dejected at her episode. 

Her father had stopped making those pitiful glances at her, even he found something interesting to look at down in his lap. Yang found another reason to hate herself altogether. Certainly, she wanted him to stop the staring, but not like this. It was wrong.

It was a suffocating silence, one that had become so familiar since she came to that it was becoming normal. There was a goliath in the room, and it made itself at home. It wore on him heavily, so much so that he never knew how to act around her. Never knew what to say, or what was okay to even do. The first month was agonizing, with her lashing out at Ruby and her own father for not leaving her alone. 

Taiyang did as she wanted, he gave his daughter all the space she needed. Of course, he was always there, but he couldn’t get through to her when she put up her shield. It’s like she locked a door and threw away the key. Yang had become reclusive and quiet, which didn’t change in the slightest when Ruby left. Part of him wondered if she even realized a member of their family had left. He knew the answer of course. It wouldn’t be the first time she’d dealt with that before.

It hurt to see her like that. Now here she was just a few feet away, and she was still just as guarded. The best he could do was try and understand, but it didn’t seem like enough. If the past months were any indication, he’d accomplished little. If today was any indicator, something had changed for her to emerge from her room, but he doubted it had anything to do with himself. That realization sat like a stone in his stomach.

He shifted his eggs about his plate accomplishing no more than he had in the past months, before putting his plate on the floor and calling Zwei. The dog lumbered into the room, happily clearing the surface. The man deposited his dish into the sink and got to work searching through drawers. He stole a quick glance at the girl still seated at the table. Yang’s eyes were still downcast, and she looked wrapped up in her own thoughts again. A frown worked its way onto his features, and he resumed his searching. One shift of miscellaneous items and something caught his eye.

“Aw, man! I’ve been looking for this thing for ages,” her father exclaimed. Yang looked over to see him produce a small wooden box from one of the cabinet drawers. Truthfully puzzled, she quirked an eyebrow. Zwei also cocked his head. 

“What is it?”

“It’s Summer’s old recipe box.” An undercurrent of sadness rode under his elated tone. Yang caught a flash of something across his face before he chuckled. 

“She used to be so awful at cooking anything other than sweets.”

As quickly as he found it, he placed it back and acquired a pen and some paper. He plopped back in his chair and regarded the sunrise ruefully. Yang watched as he started jotting things down in messy script. 

“What’s that for?”

“A bouquet for Summer. It’s that time of year again.”

Then it clicked.

Today was the anniversary of Summer Rose’s death, and Taiyang Xiao Long always made an effort to make a bouquet just for her. Gardening was a hobby of his, and flower arrangements were a natural extension of that. He made a tradition of it.

It was almost insulting how he could talk about his wife so easily but choke up at the mere mention of his first love. That intrusive thought was quickly abated and smothered by the other half of Yang’s mind. How was it possible to be so selfish at a time like this? This was the reason why he was so awkward around her. Sometimes the girl wished she could erase all of it.

A firm hand scrawled out the last of the list and settled near Yang’s hand to get her attention. He then folded the paper and rested in between the pages of some book. 

“I’ll be heading out in a few to go get some things. Are… you going to be alright?”

Yang gave a halfhearted nod not even bothering to look in his direction, lowering her hand to give Zwei soft pat on his head. Unsatisfied but relenting, Taiyang gave her shoulder a squeeze before slipping out of the room.

“I should be back within an hour, see you,” he announced followed by the thud of the front door closing.

Yang was alone, and she finally felt like she could breathe again.

* * *

**_[2]_ **

As soon as the door was shut, Taiyang’s shoulders slumped down with the weight of the grimace on his face. That could have simultaneously gone so much better or so much worse, and he honestly wasn’t sure exactly what he should have been feeling now. Happy to see his daughter out of her room? Concerned for her obvious distress? Guilty for his shortcomings?

His mind was reeling, and that translated into dubious steps across the wooden porch. The older man wound up rubbing a hand across his face with a deep sigh, before nearly tripping down the drop off where the platform ended. That motion sent the book in his other hand airborne, only to land a few feet away in the dirt, pages down. Steadying himself with all the grace of a newborn foal, he shoved his hands in his pockets and went to retrieve it with a very vexed groan.

Taiyang flipped the open book in his hands, his aggravation growing at the realization his once pristine list was slightly crumpled and marked up with earth. He tidied it as best he could and confined it within the pages once more before snapping the book shut in one rigid motion. Truly, this day was gearing up to be something else. 

With the book secured under his arm, he took his leave and began the slow advance towards town. Any other time Taiyang would have considered just driving into town, cutting the twenty-minute walk into just a simple errand, but his mind was elsewhere and his feet seemed to get the memo that taking the scenic route may do wonders for his sanity. 

Yang still wasn’t herself, but she tried to sit in the dining room all the same. There was an apprehension welling inside him paired with a ripple of relief. Something changed today. Whether that development was something wholly good or wholly awful or some mix of both remained to be seen. It would discount her efforts to write it off so soon based on one outburst. At least, that’s what the pragmatic side of him concluded. He gave an exasperated sigh, partially intrigued as his breath condensed before him in a little plume. Beyond that little cloud, the sheer amount of ground to cover came into view.

Needless to say, he would have a lot of time to himself to process everything.

Patch was a rather sizeable island, but mostly uninhabited aside from a small town just a ways away. Taiyang originally wanted to live in the wilderness based on a dream he had as a boy, the only downside was when nature had other ideas and tried to reclaim things. He remembered being in the process of building the shed and having to fight off several raccoons that found the cat food. The funny part was that there was no cat, at least that was what a very suspicious Summer claimed hiding a meowing something beneath her cloak.

A small shiver ran up his spine as a stray breeze rolled through, despite not registering the sensation due to the warmth on his cheeks. She looked so cute then, with that sly smile. There was the faintest whiff of yesterday’s rain and new pine. Dirt and gravel crunched beneath his boots in a satisfying way as he meandered along, admiring the blush of the horizon growing into a pale azure. 

Tai had made this commute on foot before, but every time before it had been midday or late afternoon. Not that those times didn’t have their sights to see, but there was something ethereal about this. Like something on a cosmological scale pulled together to make this moment on this particular day happen. Or, maybe it was a message to remind him that he was now old enough to get sentimental over such things. She used to tease him about it. The thought of growing old together, sappy as it was, he was always so eager about the prospect.

God, he missed her. 

He missed the face she made when her patience ran thin, the scowl when she ruined a pan for the first time, that thing she did with her hair when she thought no one was looking. He’d laugh at her ingenuity when she got that glint in her eye when her team was arguing, and she had come up with some insane plan to get them back on speaking terms. Those schemes carried over to getting Yang to trust her and Ruby to eat her vegetables. Fondly, he recalled the bags under her eyes from the long nights and early mornings trying to navigate parenthood; her reassurance was sweeter than his coffee then. The two of them were in over their heads, and Taiyang could swear he was screwing it up every step of the way. Summer insisted there was no concrete way to do anything. It meant so much to him then.

She used that same reassurance the last time he saw her alive. Summer had something bold burning behind those silver eyes. Something resolute. What he wouldn’t give to have even a drop of that now. 

“What am I gonna do,” he asked to no one.

The only reply was the measly rustling of the trees in a feeble gust of wind. The toe of his boot brushed against a large stone and he rested his foot atop it, rolling it from side to side.

Yang was more reserved this time, if anything. Episodes like that were not uncommon, especially at first, but it looked like she was truly trying to keep it together. He had frozen then, and he could still feel the dampness of the rag in his hands and the tautness in his arm. Tai was stalling.

Space. That what he thought was needed when she came home. His silence then was something akin to that, or so he told himself. What a poor excuse.

He was lost then, and even now. Even when Summer was around, he was just following along, straight up useless when left to his own devices. She may not know exactly what to do, but he would trust she would at least have an idea of where to start. Summer would say something about ‘doing his best’ and ‘nobody’s perfect.’ Was this really his best? 

Would his best even be enough to help her?

His eyes studied the ground before him, before shoving the rock off the road with a decisive kick.

Tai had been trying to find a balance for it all, truthfully. Give the girl enough space to figure it out, but also balancing when to step in and parent. Those times always made his heart race. In the days after Beacon, Taiyang would admit he hovered perhaps a little too much. Yang was a whirlwind in the times she chose to speak to anyone, and anytime he tried to quell her it always seemed to make things worse. Succoring her often produced the same results. He eventually backed off, and she just retreated. Aside from poking his head in to make sure she was still breathing and delivering food, Yang was a voluntary prisoner to that room. He seldom got anything out of her.

Taiyang was reminded of his own self then, and he swallowed a lump in his throat. Perhaps this morning was the result of Yang moving at her own pace. He could respect that, sure, but there was an itch at the back of his mind. His bad habit seemed to have rubbed off on her, and that only disheartened him further. Something in him screamed that something was wrong, and he needed to be the adult and take charge. Maybe it was the chance of something going wrong by doing so that scared him so much. Not like things could get much worse, anyways.

With a huff he continued down the road, dragging his feet. The road began to incline, and the dull ache in his back reminded him that he may be getting a little old for this. From there, the minutes bled into one another until small structures grew into identifiable buildings. Gravel melded with asphalt and Taiyang’s knees had never been more thankful for a level surface. The sidewalks were dotted with a few fellow pedestrians and an old truck with a clacking engine rolled on by. 

About two blocks later and the mint-colored doors of _Burgundy’s Blooms_ came into view. Taiyang brushed passed an older woman exiting as he entered, with the tinkling of a bell announcing the disturbance of the door. As he stepped in a flurry of fragrances made their presence know, causing him to sneeze. Some ways away behind the counter down a hall, a small hump was heard, followed by heavy steps on old linoleum. A large man appeared behind the counter, easily dwarfing Taiyang in scale. Upon seeing his new customer, Bryce Burgundy cracked a smile so wide it rivaled Tai’s own.

“Tai! I was wondering when you’d show,” he spread his burly arms out wide in a shrugging motion.

“I always do.”

“So, what’s it this year? We have some new exotics all the way from Anima.” Bryce gestured to a stand just before some window display at the store’s center. Right down to business as usual. 

“Well, I came prepared,” Taiyang flashed his crinkled mess of a list before reading the entries off. He’d mustered up enough gusto with that delivery that he even surprised himself. Bryce merely quirked an eyebrow before directing him with a broad hand to the far end of the store. 

Tai sauntered over and began collecting his wares. White roses were the first on the agenda, and just so happened to be the closest in proximity. He grasped a few blooms, inspecting each with an amateur eye, turning it between his thumb and forefinger. Satisfied with the immaculate petals of four particular roses, he bundled them up and proceeded to the next entry.

Somewhere between inspecting orange blossoms and scanning the displays for sweet peas, he caught the tail in end a conspicuous glance from Bryce. The taller man had busied himself behind the counter, counting out lien and writing things every now and again. His eyes shot up to meet Tai’s own, leaving him clearing his throat trying to play it off. He got back to his search.

Sometime later, he caught it again, this time a stare. Clearing his throat once more, he decided he’d had enough, “Hey, where do you guys keep your phlox again?” Bryce straightened out his back and fingered his beard thinking for a moment. “Think the missus moved it since the last time you were here… let’s see,” he rounded the counter, and with a few large paces close the distance between them. His eyes quickly regarded Tai before pointing squarely to the centerpiece of the store, some feet away from where he’d just passed. This man wasn’t subtle at all.

Taiyang realized he was holding his breath, as Bryce turned heel and retired behind the counter once more. Sheepishly, he made his way over to the centerpiece, and sure enough, there was the phlox. Beside it was those exotic flowers Bryce had mentioned. They were beautiful, but Tai thought they would clash too much with his already vivid plans. 

He finally made his way to the counter, placing his findings across the polished surface expectantly. If Bryce had kept up with his wary looks Tai wouldn’t have noticed, he was preoccupied with leaving as soon as possible. The looming cashier merely gave a jovial laugh, causing Taiyang to start.

“Hope we had everything you were looking for. Looks like you’ve got some interesting picks.” Upon seeing Taiyang’s face, Bryce’s softened into something more concerned. “You look like hell,” he said pointedly. “You better look like telling me what’s wrong or we’ll have Cerisa climbing down both our throats.”

“It’s just its Summer’s—,” Tai balked.

“I’ve known you before today, Taiyang Xiao Long. That’s not the half of it, and I can tell just by looking at you.”

“Just the weather,” he started again halfheartedly.

“I know it’s not just the weather, you never come in this early.” Bryce folded his arms, Tai squirming under his scrutinizing gaze. “Even if you were a half-decent liar, your body gives it all away.”

“I… slept wrong?”

His last attempt at reticence garnered a sigh followed by a small chuckle from the taller of the men. Bryce merely leaned forward after a beat, clearly not content. “Tai, I know it’s not my place to prod, but speaking as a friend, I’m worried about you. The last time I saw you, you didn’t look that fantastic either.”

The last time Bryce had seen him was two weeks after his girls returned home. Tai became no stranger to the comments about himself and his lack of self-care. His priorities were finding a new normal and corralling two very confused teenagers. He knew the dark circles under his eyes were becoming a permanent fixture when he realized he hadn’t slept a wink over the course of three days at the time. Bryce and his wife had popped in offering condolences and a lovely flower arrangement. He’d known Bryce for half his life, and if anyone could read him like an open book (other than Summer), it was him. 

Taiyang gave a pregnant sigh, shrugging his shoulders. There really was no avoiding it, he should know better. 

“How are things really going?”

“Well…,” Tai drawled. “Yang came out of her room.”

“Oh. That’s a good thing…” Bryce had the beginnings of an earnest smile on his face, before catching onto the wave of uncertainty radiating off his client. “Right?”

“I don’t know,” the blond stated with a reluctant shrug, sounding a tinged defeated.

Bryce inclined his head, a definite crease growing above his brows. His imposing stature did little to settle the discomfort in Taiyang. The larger of the two men paused for some time, considering his next words carefully. Then, he opened the notebook beside the register and started scrawling figures out. Tai breathed a little easier, being one step closer. Bryce then stopped.

“So that’s why you’re here early, you ran away didn’t you,” he responded trenchantly, certainly not a question.

“No,” Tai replied flatly.

“Tai.”

“That’s not it, alright,” he clipped, tersely. 

Bryce merely quirked an eyebrow, clearly malcontent with Tai’s lukewarm reply again. A large hand met the paper to continue, sometimes his free hand ruffled through the flowers counting out each. Tai’s foot began tapping incessantly, perhaps due in part to impatience or the gargantuan discomfort from being cornered like this. Certainly, he could take his bearings and leave, but it was the watchful eyes of his cashier that petrified him. A swift swipe of the pen across the page caught his attention, as Bryce crossed out all the arithmetic he’d just done. 

“Well, these old eyes don’t see as well as they used to. Pardon me, I’ll have to start again.” And again, that pen began to dance across the page, and the flowers were counted up once more. Then, Bryce halted, regarded the page a little closer, then balled it up and tore out of the notebook.

The shopkeeper gave a brazen smirk while tipping up the brim of his hat to wipe away pretend sweat. He hovered the pen above the untouched page with a stare that bored into his companion. Taiyang groaned, tired of being jerked around. The man was obviously doing everything in his power to keep him there as long as possible until Tai either caved or left in some huff. The latter of which would not be an option, if the wrath of one Cerisa Burgundy had any sway. Bryce Burgundy was no match for his wife, but his own shenanigans were enough to crack anyone, especially after the morning Tai had had.

So, he started.

“I woke up early, went to the kitchen and Yang was there. She was sitting at the table like nothing was wrong. Something happened and she kind of just had a moment, I guess… I don’t know if it was something I did or what… Yang just sat back down, like nothing happened.” 

Bryce made a small gesture with the pen. _And?_

“I-I panicked, okay… I played it off for as long as I could but I just _bolted_.”

Something flitted in Bryce’s eyes as he leaned back, resting the writing utensil beside the pad. Tai inwardly braced. Bryce got what he wanted, so to speak, but now it was onto another matter altogether. 

Taiyang bristled, he didn’t come here to be treated like a petulant child. Bryce meant well, but this was uncalled for. Shouldn’t it be enough? Unexpectedly his next words were softer.

“Tai, do you need help?”

“No,” he ejaculated, hands waving urgently. “It’s fine, we’ll work through it…” Tai ran his hand through his hair shamefaced.

“No, you moron. I mean do you need help with _yourself_!” 

Taiyang started, partially due to the irritation leaching into Bryce’s tone and also the statement itself. He opened his mouth for some retort before the rolling of the metal register drawer cut in. Bryce’s eyes were set on the task at hand, but the air exuding off him might as well share that piercing gaze. He coldly stated the total lien, and Tai fumbled with his coat pocket to get his wallet.

In doing so, it caught the corner of his scroll and sent it clattering to the floor, the same fate that befell his book some time ago. With an exasperated sigh, he threw a random sum on the counter and staggered to collect the device. When he rose again, he was met with Bryce’s raised eyebrow. Seemed like the universe was dead set on proving his friend correct today.

At that, he groused abashedly, “You know what, screw you!”

Bryce stifled a laugh, with Tai pinching the bridge of his nose wanting to keel over. The brawny man eased his shoulders and thumbed through the bills, sliding over the excess change with a small chortle sneaking out.

“I think I just need bigger pockets,” Taiyang muttered absently. That earned a loud snort from the shopkeeper, causing him to drop the lien before he could make it to the register. When Tai realized what he’d said and the sudden crouch from his friend to gather up what he’d dropped, the blond almost doubled over himself. Bryce arose and their eyes met for a moment before they both shared a mutual cackling fit.

After several beats, Taiyang had quieted himself enough to see Bryce had laughed himself into straight-up tears. His muscly hand latched onto the counter as he got his bearings. The blond took a moment to breathe.

“Aw man, I think we both need some help,” he teased the taller man halfheartedly.

With the back of his free hand, Bryce began wiping a stray tear. Finally recomposed, he simply nodded before straightening out his posture into something more casual than before.

“Been a while since I’ve had a laugh that good… or seen you smile like that.”

“R-really?” Tai laughed mirthlessly, some weariness slipping into his tone almost as soon as the lapse of relief passed.

“Look, I’m sorry.” Bryce shut the register drawer with a firm click and folded his arms. “I didn’t mean to get you worked up. I just worry—we all do.” He looked Taiyang in the eyes, “You’re not yourself, and you haven’t been since your girls got back.”

Tai was silent as he averted his gaze, retrieving his change from the tabletop with sluggish hands. The shopkeeper then leaned on the counter, the old wood creaking under his broad hands. The blond was in the process of reordering his wallet when he quickly glanced at the larger man. A previously warm expression had cooled to something more solemn, and his gruff voice came wistfully.

“When my dad returned from his last mission as a hunter, he was a different person. He’d sit outside a lot, started smoking more and always had that thousand-mile stare when he’d look at the sky. I remember wanting to ask him about it so badly, but my mom always turned me away. She was always walking the line trying to make him feel okay. That was his thing after that, sit outside while the world kept on moving, just existing. We respected his wishes, until one day he put his cigarettes down and came inside. I found him in the living room, just sitting there.

“He wanted me to sit next to him and just watch some movie. It was strange, but for just a moment I felt like the old man was back, not just some shadow. That became our thing, every day for about a week we’d watch something in complete silence. Right up until he died.”

Bryce paused, Taiyang catching the rheumy glint of his eyes.

“What I realized…,” he continued distantly. “What I realized is when I looked over at him in that chair, dead as I shook him, is that was his way of trying to get back to normal. He needed time to get the floor under him and did so just in time. But… on his own time.”

Bryce swallowed hard, slipping back into the present. “Part of me thinks that’s what she did this morning. She’s trying, Tai, and if I were you, I would take that as a sign that it’s time to really step up.”

Taiyang bowed his head, taking time to ruminate on the words. Perhaps that was what Yang was attempting to do, make a step towards normalcy. Looking back, he’d panicked over the unexpected development. Bryce was right in that regard. A small part of him thought back to the whole space concept, something going cold within. Was that whole thing some charade to put off actively being there for Yang? He’d spent the past months fretting about overstepping and giving her room, but it was becoming clear that it may have also been a convenient excuse to be absent. He knew he wasn’t some paragon of a father, but even that was a pretty awful revelation for him. Awful like the time Qrow looked him squarely in the eyes and called him a lousy parent. It hurt because he was right, what hurt more was that nothing changed in the years since.

Tai was better than this, he knew he could do better than this. This was not his best, in fact, it was never his best. He was playing it safe on his own terms, perhaps there was some merit to his concerns about borders but clearly it was self-preserving in nature. Something in him flared then, a mix of agitation at himself and resolute determination. He’d been stumbling in the dark for himself, and it was time to flip the switch.

“Bryce, thank you,” he said in a sincere, low voice.

His friend gave a faint shake of his head, answering mellowly, “If I see you worse off next time, I just might have Cerisa lecture you.”

The blonde laughed wearily once more. His companion rounded the counter stealing a glance down at the watch on his broad wrist, the face looking comically small in proportion. He leaned against the counter, giving Tai a hardy pat on the back. Comforting in its own way. The shorter blond released a weighty sigh, glaring at the door remembering the long trek ahead. Never missing a beat, Bryce asked, “Do you want me to drive you home?”

“Well—wait, you’re working right now!”

“Caught me red-handed! Technically, yes. But my better half should be back any minute now. Went down to the bakery to get some donuts or something. We had, ahh—,” he gestured trying to remember something, “—hydrangeas, a bit of a fight over hydrangeas. _You_ are giving me an excuse to rub it in that _I_ won.”

“Bryce. Out here lecturing _me_ on running from _my_ problems, and _you’re_ out here—.”

The turning mechanism of a door being unlocked echoed from the back of the store and a quick hand came up to silence Taiyang. The door apparently jammed, if the curses of one Cerisa Burgundy were to be trusted. Her husband, Bryce Burgundy, made haste gathering up his customer’s belongings and ushered him out the door with enough force to leave Taiyang stumbling out into the street. Just before falling in step with his larger companion, the blond caught something being slipped into his bundle of flowers.

The two were out the door in a blur, leaving only the distant screech of a very enraged woman. There would be hell to pay either from the door or her husband, but Taiyang sure wouldn’t be around for it. The two closed the space between Bryce’s vehicle almost running. As soon as the passenger side door was shut, Taiyang was huffing and puffing harder than he had in a long time. His friend already had the key in the ignition and was booking it down the street, cracking up like never before at his misdeed.

Taiyang rasped out, “I cannot _believe_ you just did that… She’s gonna be so—”

“Livid, yeah, I know. But what’s life without a little fun?” Taiyang decided he did not like the cheeky grin on this man’s face.

“Summer—,” he breathed deeply, grinning, “would have _absolutely_ killed me. She’d probably plant a trap somewhere.”

“Be sure to check the obituary tomorrow.” Bryce practically stopped dead at that, eyes meeting Taiyang’s unreadable gaze, he’d just remembered what today was. He was poised to utter an apology before the blonde burst out laughing. This was a different man than had walked into his humble flower shop this morning.

The ride continued on with several more outbursts from both parties, reminiscing about old days and catching up on more recent events. Bryce had taken backroads unintentionally, leading to some detours and a several minutes long argument over Taiyang’s remote living choices. Bryce was more than ecstatic to detail the war over the hydrangeas that happened the night before at _Burgundy’s Blooms_. Apparently, Cerisa held grudges when it came to flowers. Taiyang always knew her to be particular about things, and the store was no exception. 

There was never any malice when it came to arguments between those two. Mostly just the playful squabbling over inconsequential things, like he and Summer used to. He smiled fondly, partially from the pleasant company and in remembrance. He would rectify things with Yang, if not for himself, for Summer.

Speaking of, he glanced down at the bundle of flora in his hands recalling Bryce’s haste. Sat amidst the roses, phlox, and other members there was the distinct foliage of one of those exotic flowers from the centerpiece of the floral shop. Taiyang shot a bewildered look at the driver, whose eyes were locked to the road.

“What’s this?”

“Oh, you noticed! It’s one of those flowers from Anima I was telling you about. Pretty things, really. I saw the color scheme you were going for this year. Thought it needed a little something extra. They’re called maypops.” Bryce spared him a quick glance with an amused look.

The brakes of the car creaked as it came to a complete stop in the gravel driveway. Taiyang was dumbfounded as a broad hand halted him as he pulled up his wallet trying to pay for the unforeseen additions.

Bryce gave the shorter man an incredulous look, one that took Tai a moment to realize he was meant to take this particular addition to the bouquet free of charge. Taiyang sighed at the gall of this man, gathering up his things with copious amounts of thanks. As he shut the car door, Bryce paused and made him promise to drop by more often, warning of Cerisa’s wrath. Wishing each luck with his own affairs, Bryce’s vehicle vanished into the brush leaving dust in the midmorning air. 

Taiyang regarded his wares again, taking special notice of the freebies. With his curiosity peaked, he thumbed through the pages of his scuffed book. Surprisingly, maypops was a euphemism for a variety of plants called passion flowers. In floriography, their message was linked with religions in the east, but in common times more associated with faith.

Faith, huh?

He cracked a smile at that. Bryce knew he was a sap like that. Closing the book deftly (but not deftly enough to notice his crumpled list had slipped out between the pages), Taiyang made his way towards the door. He managed to fish his scroll out of his other pocket, noting that he underestimated the time he’d really spent out by about a half-hour or so. He gave a deep breath and turned the handle, perhaps holding himself a little higher.

Yang wasn’t okay, and he needed to wisen up and be there. Easier said than done, but he was up to the challenge. He had faith in that.

* * *

Shortly after the house went silent, Yang retreated to her room with Zwei prancing about her heels. It felt a little wrong to go back there, but her excuse to herself was that she needed to tidy up a bit before the day truly started. She felt more comfortable with her thoughts there anyways. While the room was spotless aside from some dust collecting atop a shelf and an unmade bed, mentally there was housekeeping she needed to do. Yang started with the bed.

The blonde grasped the tousled sheets and pulled them beneath the pillow. It was tricky work now, but one of the things she adjusted to rather quickly given her new state. She began smoothing the sheets with one hand, the thought of her father crossed her mind giving her pause. 

He was rag-in-hand, face dripping with concern, and she was dispirited and stuck. She apologized, but something was still holding her in that moment. Yang didn’t make a break for it then, but she didn’t speak up either. If she had reached out a, maybe things could be different right now. 

Yang was getting better at doing things for herself, she liked to think. For one, she could dress herself, and writing was getting a little easier. 

To have Taiyang incessantly hover over her when she did anything, however, made her uncertain. The possibility of screwing something up was thrown back at her every time he did it. The man was trying to help in the only way he knew how. Yang was not blind to his intentions.

With a deep sigh, she sunk next to the corgi whose head was now resting in her lap. His fur was soft to the touch but doing little for the daggers Yang was directing inward to herself. Communicating with her father was always contentious.

Come to think of it, when he shut down after Summer’s death, it was about the same. Taiyang was present, but Yang couldn’t remember when he was emotionally there. In those days, she became the rock for their shattered little family. 

It was a dreary day then, overcast with just the three of them at a fresh grave with Ruby glued to her father’s side bawling her eyes out. Taiyang just stared off into the distance as he held his youngest daughter. She was too young to understand it all at the time, but she knew her mother wasn’t coming home.

The image of his eyes swimming with despondency was etched in her mind. She didn’t remember crying in that moment, but she was sad. The rain made her skin feel numb. It was a distant memory.

The house fell to a standstill, and her father was scarce. Yang stepped up to do everything afterward. She did chores, made sure Ruby was taken care of, and she even recalled reminding her father to eat some days; but that was when he would come out of his room. Yang found herself laughing unintentionally at the irony in the present. The blonde could distinctly remember standing at the base of the house’s stairs one day and calling up to him, Ruby was at her feet with scratched up knees from a fall crying her eyes out. Their father appeared after several long minutes, and that was the first time Yang ever truly felt angry with him. That was the beginning of it. That little spark of resentment caught the tinder of her bottled emotions. She remembered yelling at him and running away. It was then that she truly grieved, at first for Summer, then for her father. 

Ruby bounced back eventually but still asked off-handed questions about Summer here or there. Taiyang had the slower climb, but he, too, came around. However, every now and then, the mask would slip. Especially today. Frankly, she really wasn’t looking forward to it.

The girl wasn’t sure when, but she’d laid her head back against her bed. She gave a small puff of air that caught the underside of her bangs, causing them to flip up. Deciding to restrain her long locks, Yang rose and made the commute towards the bathroom. Zwei had fallen asleep beside her and remained back in the room.

Pulling a drawer open, she retrieved a violet hair tie. She forced it over her knuckles and prepped herself for the next part. Collecting all her hair in one hand, Yang fiddled the band off her hand and around the hair. She then twisted it to secure it, staring into the mirror assessing her handiwork. The ponytail was off-center, tending to the left, but it was up, nonetheless. A ghost of a smile tinged her lips. She was getting good at this. It was the little things that helped the most nowadays. She spent three whole days learning to tie her shoes one-handed. Several hours of swearing and cramped fingers earned her another step towards something. It wasn’t quite independence, but it was something to work towards. 

Most of those little victories occurred in the recesses of her room. She’d shut everyone and everything out, so Yang had nothing but time to figure out how more mundane things worked for people without two hands. Part of her wondered if that was what kept her sane. It kept _those_ thoughts away. She knew she would emerge from her room sooner or later and she’d have to face the world. Something about today snuck up on her.

A fond memory surfaced then, one of her having her hair braided by Summer. Two little French braids replaced the two twin tails in a young Yang’s hair. 

Summer.

Yang felt a warmth blossom in her chest, and a faint sting behind her eyes. 

Deep down, she always knew she was different from Ruby. Summer tried everything she could to involve Yang in anything and everything, like a mother would with any of her children. Even as young as she was, she always knew that there was something different about it though. There was always something off, Yang wasn’t hers, but Summer didn’t care in the slightest. She accepted her with open arms all the same. A stray tear escaped, and Yang quickly caught it with her sleeve.

The box from this morning came to mind and an idea.

The kitchen drawer opened with a creek, earning a wince from the blonde. How her father had managed to open it without such a result eluded her. She pulled it out and placed it on the counter. It was about midmorning, and the light from the window allowed Yang to get a good look at this little box. From a distance, it didn’t look like anything spectacular, but up close there were all kinds of little engravings along the top and sides. Vines and roses, as could be expected. An elegant S adorned the top, and its hinges and clasps were plated in rose-gold. This little container was practically dripping with Summer’s image. 

Baking anything was out of the question. She didn’t trust herself enough with the oven, but Yang’s interest was piqued as to what the box’s contents were. Her father’s words rang true as far as Yang remembered, Summer’s baking prowess extended only to dessert foods. Perhaps she could hope to salvage something from this morning by talking Taiyang into making something with her. 

Wishful thinking.

She gave a small sigh, placing her hand beneath the latch attempting to flip it up. The whole box tipped up with that, the latch itself not budging. The blonde regarded it quizzically, dropping down to get eye-level to it. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary about the binding mechanism. There was no hole for any key, the latch was just a snug fit. Rising, Yang gave her hand a few squeezes and realized she’d just have to exert some force. Perhaps this was the culmination of all this time practicing as a lefty, she mused to herself. She could get a little crafty with it. 

Yang rested her forearm atop the little box and approached said latch from behind. Hooking her finger beneath it, she wrenched up while pushing her weight back. A few beats of rigorous work later and the latch came free. It would have been flawless execution on her part, were it not for the fact she greatly overestimated the force necessary to get the thing open. The container arced backward, its contents erupting and flying all over the kitchen. The top smacked into the counter causing a _thunk_ , and for a second Yang’s vision began to swim. She staggered back legs going weak.

Her back hit something and she started, catching her breath hard. She shut her eyes and clutched the closest surface to steady herself. For a moment, just a second, she felt helpless. Just as soon as her mind flitted to that place, it passed leaving her ragged breaths in its wake. Yang stood stock still, reminding herself where she was and what she was doing. 

She was safe. 

All that time to herself not only left her ample time to practice basic skills but also how to calm herself. For better or for worse, when she dealt with things like this on her own, she learned a thing or two about self-soothing. 

Safe in the kitchen.

Yang opened her eyes slowly, breaths falling into a more uniform pace. That previous excitement gave way to a small groan upon seeing the cards strewn about the countertop and across the floor. At least it wasn’t a liquid this time. The box itself was mercifully still on the counter, in one piece. In fact, the blonde found herself somewhat impressed with it. The old container was made to last. The sheer volume of cards also had her in awe, something so numerous being contained in such a little space. That box was a robust piece of work.

A few seconds of gawking stalled her long enough, before she heard the telltale creak of the front door’s hinges which made her freeze solid. From around the corner, Taiyang announced his arrival, with the clicking of Zwei’s nails against the wooden floors. Yang grew mortified as he came into view. His eyes immediately shot to the floor, back up at her, then the floor again. Each successive shift of his head and she wanted to die a little more out of embarrassment. 

_Fuck._

“U-um, hey,” she said meekly.

Taiyang silently walked into the room, placed his belongings down on the dining table, and got to work pulling the cards into an orderly stack. Yang, too, joined in awkwardly, that was when she noticed him trying to stifle a laugh.

“Seems like you had a fight and lost to the box. I think there’s a reason why I didn’t find it until today.”

“Wait, you aren’t mad?” She paused, eyeing him suspiciously. 

“It was an accident, Yang,” he declared frankly.

She handed her jagged stack over and stood up. Taiyang had started gathering the cards remaining on the countertop. Yang watched with some unease. He knocked the long side of a portion of the girthy stack against the surface to level it before placing it back into the recipe box. Taiyang halted when he turned the next chunk over, it caught Yang’s eye, too.

Sat upon this section of the stack of cards, written in curvy script, was a recipe for chocolate chip cookies. Tai gave an amused sigh, before a hand, not his own, plucked it off said stack. 

Yang had a goal in opening that box, and the prize just landed in her lap. She firmly placed it beside the container and tapped it with her index finger.

“I was looking for this, actually.”

Taiyang regarded her quietly, quirking an eyebrow. Yang balked a little before mustering up some semblance of poise for what she was about to propose.

“I thought we could make some. I mean, I can’t exactly um…” She glanced down to her right, and Taiyang, catching the implication jumped in posthaste, “—uh, yeah, yeah.” He popped the rest of the stack into the box, then latched it with some difficulty. 

The older man gingerly picked up the card and studied it, taking inventory of exactly what they would need. Most of it would be covered but having chocolate chips stocked was dubious at best. A certain girl hadn’t been home for some time, and her absence meant that that particular item had not been on the grocery list for a while.

“I think I might have to run down to the store to get some things, but yeah, we can totally do it!”

Oddly, relief swelled in Yang’s chest. For once, something went right today between the two of them. 

One quick errand and Taiyang was back with everything that was necessary (being merciful to his feet and time, he took his car). The two got to work making treats, and Yang could swear she could hear Ruby’s cries about it not being fair they were making her favorite without her. She missed that kid.

* * *

**_[4]_ **

It was nearing midday now, and the two Xiao Longs were sitting on their porch with the elder scrawling out designs on paper and the younger doing her best to try and stop laughing over their awful excuse for baked goods. Okay, the cookies weren’t awful, but they certainly weren’t Summer-levels of good either. The bottoms were charred, and Yang was adamant about the fact her father used too much milk. Taiyang, were he not focusing so hard, would also be in stitches, but merely emitted an amused chuckle. 

“I told you! I’m not good for anything baking related,” he quipped. 

“Alright, they aren’t that bad, but,” Yang knocked one of the cookies against the metal table for effect. The thing didn’t even crumble, only rattling the surface a bit with a tinny ring. “These are basically weapons.”

“It wouldn’t surprise me if Summer would use one in a pinch.”

“Have you ever had to use something really weird as a weapon before?”

“I would never use those.” He reached over with his free hand and stole one, before taking a bite and grimacing dramatically. That earned a giggle from Yang, making him smile inwardly. “I think I may have used a chair once,” he mused. 

“Really? When?”

“Back at Beacon, we were decorating the dorms, and Qrow and I did a duel for who got to keep the best bed on the guy’s side of the room. The only rule was that you couldn’t use actual weapons. You’ll never guess who won, though.”

Yang took a moment to contemplate. “You?”

“Glynda.”

“Hang on a minute, she was a teacher then?”

“Teacher’s assistant at the time. Anyways, long story short, _somebody_ —not me I swear— broke our window and a chair somehow wound up in the courtyard. Our whole team had detention for an entire month. We had some real fun in those days.” Taiyang leaned back in his chair and folded his arms behind his head, deliberately trying to give off a too cool air.

Yang gave a snort at that, folding her arms in her own sort of way before giving a haughty smirk. “Team RWBY also got into trouble, we had Goodwitch almost tear us up after a food fight.”

“Pssssh… child’s play compared to what we did,” he waved his hand provocatively. 

So started the long hour of recounting stories of team STRQ’s misadventures, often punctuated with Yang’s retelling of team RWBY’s own, what few there were. Taiyang’s mind was put at ease seeing his daughter simply talking at peace for once. Not on a hair-trigger or downtrodden, just simply enjoying herself. Sometimes, her old cockiness would come out and for just a moment he felt hopeful. 

He knew she’d grown close to her teammates, sans Ruby, of course. Her sister had come home before the Vytal Festival with a picture of all four practically gushing about the other two girls. One thing he noticed, however, there was always something about her smile that never quite reached her eyes when a certain member was mentioned. Blake was her name if he remembered right. He could put that discrepancy aside, for now, however, this was an important step. If things went well, it would be a step in the right direction for once.

It felt normal, natural even. 

Between all the storytelling, he’d caught Yang taking an interest in his drawing. He propped it up to show her asking her what she thought. Taiyang was no artist, but the simple shapes helped him map out his plans for that bouquet he went through the trouble of making every year. In the ten plus years since it became a tradition, his chicken scratch hadn’t improved one bit. Yang made that known, scoffing at his primitive rendition of what was a rose.

He uttered some remark about respecting the craft meant in good humor, before taking his leave to procure the bindings. When he returned, he found Yang absently flipping through his floriography book. Some of her page turns were admittedly clumsy, but she didn’t seem to mind. Something he hardly noticed until now was just how comfortable she was getting to life single-handed.

During their whole baking escapade, Tai noticed certain movements that were previously uncoordinated and shaky coming out smooth. Though slow, Yang was making strides in her acclimation as an amputee. He was rather impressed when she volunteered to mix the batter, then wedged the bowl in the corner of the counter and began stirring. His daughter’s resourcefulness was pretty neat, but a knot tightened in his chest at the fact he had hoped she would never have to learn or relearn any of this in her lifetime. Yang shouldn’t be in this condition at all. She was also getting to know her limits, too. At certain tasks, the blonde would ask for help; things like cracking eggs or pouring things into pans. The whole experience was very languid, and Taiyang considered asking her if this should become something they did more often. The results may have been less than stellar, but practice made perfect.

Bryce’s words echoed in his head.

_"...that was his way of trying to get back to normal... on his own time..."_

Moving at her own pace, on her own time. He turned that particular thought over in his head for a time. The girl before him now was different than the recluse that came home from Beacon, and the passionate young woman that left in the first place. She looked better, by all accounts, doing something as domestic as baking seemed to do wonders for her. Taiyang was truthfully a little overjoyed at that, but there was still something there. It was almost imperceptible, but a shadow would flick across her face for just a moment, or when she thought no one was watching. She wasn’t at all recovered, and she probably wouldn’t be for a long time. It made sense for some Yang to carry some pretty heavy things back from hell with her. That made the moments where she was content all the more invaluable. He would make sure this one lasted.

Apparently, in his musings, he’d stopped and was just looking at her with a dumb smile on his face. Yang eyed him curiously, hand smoothing a page down.

“Something wrong?”

“No, not at all.”

He placed some wax paper down on the table followed by twine. They were rather ordinary next to the flowers that would be in the bouquet in retrospect, but he decided any design on the bindings would detract from the message. He carefully pulled all the future members out and got down to business arranging. Yang had stopped flipping idly through the book, and instead found some of her father’s choice flowers intriguing.

“White and purple, huh,” she observed, lightly brushing the stems.

“I thought about changing it up this year, usually it’s a lot of pinks and whites.” Taiyang placed the roses dead center and was currently deciding between two different shades of phlox. One was a vivid purple, the other a striking magenta. He hovered each next to the roses, then next to each other, going through a whole process and a half to determine what was best. Yang knew his bouquets were never slapdash.

“So _floriography_ is the language of flowers, right?”

Though engrossed in his decision making, he acknowledged her. “Yeah.”

“Do you always hide messages when you do this every year?”

The older blond came to a consensus and placed the magenta flower down, before pausing. He nodded and reached for other phloxes identical in shade. 

“Can you tell me what they mean?”

“I had a list of them actually, you can look them up. The thing should be somewhere between the pages of the book.” Tai was working the stubborn petals of one flower trying in vain to get it to do his bidding. Some shuffling of papers beside him followed by the lifting and tapping noise of the book being moved earned him an unamused frown from Yang.

“I don’t see it anywhere.”

The older man quirked an eyebrow before Yang slid the book over. He thumbed through the pages and even flipped the thing over to knock on the back in the hopes the list would slip out of hiding. Nothing. The thing must have fallen out. “Man, my luck today with this thing. Probably dropped it somewhere on the way home,” he stated a bit peeved. He turned the book over to the younger blonde. Taking it in stride, he pointed to the magenta flowers before him.

“This is phlox. I guess I can give you some _pointers_.”

Yang laughed at the wordplay as she riffled through to the index. She found the entry she was looking for an eagerly turned to the designated page. The girl read it off aloud before cracking a sly smile, and gestured at a random flower in the pile that was to be named next. 

“Windflower.”

More overturning of pages, and several answers later, Yang had a mischievous grin on her face. Taiyang had made significant progress on the bouquet and was getting a little suspicious. 

“You’re a real sap, you know that.”

That gave him pause, he gave a sharp exhale of amusement. “How so?”

“Purity, eternal love, sincerity, innocence, departure…,” she started rattling off motioning to each respective flower as she said its message. That slyness ebbed away. “It’s actually really sweet…,” she said softly. “I think she’d like it a lot.”

He smiled candidly. “I hope so.”

After much more deliberation, Taiyang shifted a few select flowers around before swaddling them up and knotting the twine securely. Yang had complimented him on the visual appeal a few times, marveling at the roses. Taiyang had to turn away in a sneezing fit, leaving Yang laughing at the short-lived onslaught. When the pollen surrendered his sinuses, he found his daughter waving her hand to get his attention.

“Hey Dad, what’s this?” Yang, looking inquisitive, was holding up one of those exotic flowers Bryce had snuck into his flower stash. Apparently, Taiyang was so engrossed with the other flowers that he’d forgotten that addition. That little, loud addition. 

“It’s a maypop. They’re some new flower from the east. Bryce was adamant about me taking some home.” He sniffled before holding his nose trying to hold in another sneezing fit.

“Oh.”

Taiyang was at ease now, the assault certainly avoided. He snagged one of said exotics, the man was correct about it being loud. Maypops were very visually busy. Parts that zigzagged here, and pieces called antlers that stuck out like a deer’s own. He could see why Bryce had snuck them in, in hindsight, barring their meaning. They had a nice shade of purple which would fit right in with the bouquet now that he thought about it. From what he remembered in some art class from ages ago, yellow and purple were also complementary colors. The yellow center of the flower drew his eye, and instantly he had an idea. Pulling up the bouquet, Taiyang slipped a few maypops into its center. It made for an interesting focal point. 

Taiyang looked to Yang, noticing she’d made headway reading. For a second, he saw her pause as something flashed across her face, it quickly dissipated as her own eyes met his. Subduing his concern, he rested the bouquet on the table. The two regarded one another for a beat in silence. Searching for something to fill the blank, he reached for the plate of cookies that had since gone cold.

“We’re finished with these, right?”

“O-oh yeah, definitely,” Yang answered, some humor returning.

He breathed an inward sigh of relief at that. She still seemed okay, perhaps the moment had not been spoilt. Taiyang flipped one of the cookies over and made an exaggeratory face. One couldn’t be too, sure.

“Do you know anyone who needs some stones?”

“Can’t say I do. I bet we’ll get it right next time, though,” she said reassuringly.

Positive, she looked positive. That was a good thing, he decided as he walked back into the house to dispose of their affront to all chefs and competent cooks alike. Turns out eating less than great food worked up his appetite. He took a gander at the clock on the wall and realized it was approaching lunchtime. The older man felt a little prideful over the fact his next exploit in the kitchen would be something within the realm of his ability. 

To his surprise, Yang followed shortly behind him, book under her residual limb and bouquet in her left hand. She placed them gracefully on the dining table, before taking a seat. Her foot was bouncing impatiently, maybe she was ready for something edible, too. Yang’s eyes drifted over to the bouquet resting there for a while.

“I like what you did with them.”

“Huh?”

“The, um, maypops. It looks nice.”

“Total artist wouldn’t you say,” he jested sarcastically.

She simply smiled at that, but it didn’t reach her eyes. It wasn’t a veil like a shadow, rather, it seemed like something was nagging her. Part of him began running through the words he’d said since they had their little moment out on the porch, wondering if something he’d said fostered that very glint in her eyes.

Yang opened her mouth to say something, but almost immediately closed it. She placed her hand atop the book, like she was rehearsing something to herself. Every so often, the girl would shoot a glance his way. Taiyang was inclined to just ask outright what was on her mind, before Yang had steeled herself long enough to inquire.

“Do you mind if I go see her with you?”

Taiyang stalled at that, eyes perhaps a little wide. Yang was staring at him blankly— it was an honest question. The older man’s ritual of crafting a bouquet and personally delivering it to Summer’s grave was a very personal commute he made every year, usually alone, but that wasn’t why he was taken aback. Yang asked to go with him. Things were going well, but he never expected it to go this well. That made him more excited than he would like to admit.

“Of course not,” Taiyang stated, trying to subdue his elation. “We can head out after lunch. I promise it will be real food this time.”

They agreed on making sandwiches.

* * *

**_[5]_ **

The dirt path above snaked through the woods, which was obscured in some places as grasses began taking over. It was clear this particular route hadn’t seen the footfalls of anyone for a long time. The trees here also seemed eerily quiet, something noted by Taiyang, as he helped his daughter overstep a tree branch that had fallen. Patch’s uninhabited woods usually sported gentle hills, but they seemed to grow into little mountains the deeper they progressed. This little walk was more of a hike than anything. Much to her dismay, her father had asked if she was sure she wanted to go with him, he even warned they would turn around if it proved too much for her. Perhaps it was a bit of her bullheadedness, but she was adamant about going. Her father had its navigation down to a science, and as evidenced by the undisturbed parts of it, seemed like the only one who made regular visits. Other than Ruby, that is.

Yang pulled the coat tighter around her as a gust of wind swept through. The thing was some old relic from her father’s younger years. Just before they departed, he handed it off to her before knotting the right sleeve to accommodate her limb so it wouldn’t get in the way. That little gesture had the blonde holding her head a little higher. She wanted today to be salvaged, and extending her presence seemed to work wonders for her father’s sake. He sauntered onwards in a content sort of way, one that she didn’t think was even possible for him. Given the context, it would have been extremely morbid. Well, it was. This was the first good day for him in a while, and it’s the very day he should have been grieving. A twisted sort of irony that was, she mused.

That irony was the ambiance for today, it seemed. Usually, she’d be holed up in her room, learning some trick for one-handers or attempting to mollify unsavory thoughts. That had been exactly where she was yesterday, and the day before that, and so on. As far back as she could remember since coming home, really. Yang had walked the grave’s path only a handful of times, never quite making it to the end except for once. That time was important, and this time it was, too, but something was distinctly missing.

Their little duo should have been a trio, and the small room of her heart felt a little empty about that realization. Empty in another way when the blonde considered today might not have been possible if she were here, too.

Before she adopted isolation, there was a brief period where the door to her bedroom remained open. One of those days, Ruby emerged for the first time showing she was okay. On two feet and in need of answers, and Yang did nothing but push her away, too busy trying to answer her own. Looking back, she wanted to spare a left hook across her own face and scream. Ruby needed her, and she would have killed for anyone to talk her out of regressing. Her sister was nothing but forward with her worries and attempts to bridge the gap—a gap Yang was so viciously trying to keep chasmic. 

She never expected to be ready to resume a normal life, or rather, it never crossed her mind when day in, day out, Yang was just stewing in self-hatred and sorrow. When she got wind of Ruby’s letter, part of her grew desperate at the very real reality that she may never be able to right the wrongs. If anything, it was indicative that the world was still moving on without her, and that if she kept it up, she’d be left behind. Didn’t help that she buried that conclusion and continued in the very same fashion as before. If Ruby were still present now, Yang knew she couldn’t look her younger sister in the eyes. Father, sister, stranger, it didn’t matter. She just wanted to be left unto herself. That was true then, but now…? She wasn’t sure she could answer that. That drew a small scoff from her, all the time in the world and she was still clueless about so much of herself. 

Her left hand subconsciously latched onto a pine, its bark flaking beneath the weight. She used it to steady herself as the path curved sharply upwards into the brush, taking care with her steps. Taiyang’s eyes were heavy upon her.

“You alright?”

“Yeah,” she stated flatly.

“Right…”

The older blond turned heel and continued forwards, moving tree limbs to allow the pair to shuffle on by. A gentle breeze was working the canopy swaying the greenery to and fro, sometimes working its way down to greet the two Xiao Longs. It was a feeling Yang had missed, and when it hit her face just right, she could remember flying above the Emerald Forest for just a moment. That was one of the better memories. Flying high and blasting off with little regard to where or what she was going towards.

Yang felt the ghost of her right hand form a fist then uncurl, leaving prickles racing up and down her residual limb. She cupped it with her left, lips pressed into a thin line. Either a change in weather was due soon, or just good old phantom pain for the sake of. The girl was about to offhandedly mention the former to her company, but a certain clearing was in direct view now.

On a cliff overlooking the deep forests of the island of Patch, was the headstone memorializing one Summer Rose. It rested within a clearing facing east, where the trees drew back leaving the thing to stand alone. The monument itself was a simple slab carved at an incline with beveled edges. The deceased’s emblem was etched into its center above the epitaph. The details were hazy now, but Yang recalled it being from a poem Summer liked.

Sparing no time, Taiyang crossed the field to his lover’s resting place with prompt steps. Meanwhile, his daughter hung back several yards away. It felt inappropriate to intrude on something so intimate. He was on his knees working the bouquet. A small smile breached her features at that, her father titivated right until the end. Perhaps something had escaped his eagle eye.

Something about that gave her a weird pause, then she realized she was fiddling with the hem of the jacket with a clammy left hand. A little seed of anxiousness sprouted. Things felt off here, it felt wrong to be standing back spectating like this. Though most of the grave was obscured by her father’s hunched figure, she could feel it bore into her.

What would Summer think of all this?

The fresh guilt of slamming her door shut on her sister and father was thick in her throat. In hindsight, reaching out was something she should have done. Maybe this was what today was about, her body and mind having had enough forced her out in the open. Too late to see her sister off, or tell her she loved her, and too soon for Yang herself to face her father in earnest. In fact, she’d been doing exactly like he had when Summer had passed. A shutdown and close-up kind of coping. No entrance, no egress, just the company of herself. While it allowed her to work through some things, maybe that was more detrimental than she first realized. After all, she missed her chance with Ruby, and if she’d held out any longer, her father may have up and gone, too.

Surely, the days of poking his head in only to be greeted by scathing declarations to go away and leave her be wore him ragged. People only had so much patience. Yang was doing her best to keep her head above water then and doing so meant not complicating things with outsiders. That would be a fitting explanation, were it not for the fact she knew there was nothing buoyant about her past methods. She got things under some semblance of control, but by then he defaulted to skating around everything. Meek attempts at things here or there, anything to avoid upsetting her. It became a whirlwind of wanting to just have him there for her and also wanting to berate herself for letting it get this way. When had this all become so complicated? 

Her eyes had settled on some cloud in the sky, watching it glide completely detached. She wished the wind would take her metaphorical suitcase by the handle, too. Help a girl out by lightening the load. Yang’s head pitched to the side, regarding her father once more.

Considering his results sufficient, he erected himself. Standing tall, his eyes trailed from the grave before him to the horizon beyond. There was a tenseness in his shoulders as he did so, clearly mulling over something. Taiyang had a broody side that came out when that mask slipped off. Yang could almost imagine his face.

Then something dawned on her, grimly.

This time was harder for him. This year, he wouldn’t have the courtesy of knowing his two children were safe at some school. His youngest was off on what was basically a suicide mission, and his oldest was unpredictable and unwilling. Here her father was grieving over one lost loved one, the possibility of losing another hanging over his head, and the only remaining one, closest to him physically, drifting away. And it all made sense to her. He was scared of hurting her, but most of all, losing her. He was trying to do everything in his power to appease her, walking a line like a man holding a faulty bomb that could explode at any time.

But that would mean… by pulling away, she was causing him distress. Unnecessary pain. Yang spent all this time wrapped up in trying to keep her walls high and sift through things herself, that she’s been encumbering him in the worst way. Stuck in a debilitating dilemma where she never expressed anything but resentment. On the receiving in, was it any wonder why he was the way he was? She imagined it was like stumbling around a lion’s den. Never knowing exactly what could go wrong and having to stay hyperaware of every action. Yang shook her head at that, utterly disquieted.

Her time confined was not all for nothing, though. It took her time to acclimate to things. She acknowledged that things would need time to calm down then, but now she felt like it may have been too long. Some days, she just woke up angry and stayed as such. Others were better, but the blonde remembered being angry above all. Night brought the tears and nightmares, and the awful long process of learning to breathe her way through episodes. The sadness came afterward, blanketing the place like a thick smog. Yang eventually got fed up with it all, and today was the day she threw the door open.

It was too late to change the past but going forward she could rectify it. There was still so much she needed to unpack, reorder, get over, get rid of, and so on. Time was a precious resource she needed more of, but it obviously was not on her side. Her eyes were on the older man before her, his back still to her. Had she two hands, she’d have wrung them together.

Yang resolved to start now, to be more proactive. 

Almost as quickly as it started, Taiyang started to take his leave. The whole ritual was over and done with, and it was his gait that threw Yang for a bit of a loop. His walk was lighter in a mundane sort of way. Like he’d just delivered sugar to a neighbor sort of normal. As she fell wordlessly in step with him, she caught the glint of his glassy eyes.

The return trip was forgiving, as going downhill tended to be. Her father was taking more care to drink in the scenery, less occupied with checking in on her (something she was thankful for). They trekked on in relative silence, only a steady breeze here or sounds of footsteps to remind her where she was. Yang could swear she felt each successive gust growing a little stronger. The blonde’s lilac eyes drew upwards, surveying the pieces of sky poking through the trees. It made for a cluttered view.

The incline the pair had been descending flattened. Taiyang was several paces ahead of her, hands in his pockets. Yang just now realized how far she’d lagged behind. With slight hesitation, a few sharp paces and she was nearing his side. Some dirt kicked up in doing so, and the older man’s head snapped back in her direction. A puzzled look dissolved into something pleased.

“It’s pretty nice out.” Tai was still relishing the surroundings.

She wasn’t sure if it was just some one-off comment or trying to spark a conversation. Had she anything to say, it would have caught in her throat. Instead, she just nodded, left hand tugging the coat to readjust it. 

“Well, we have the whole rest of the day now. _Carpe diem_ , as they say.”

Yang quirked an eyebrow and eyed him questioningly. 

“Carp what?”

“ _Carpe diem_ , ‘seize the day’,” his hands flew out of his pockets in a flash to do air quotes. “I heard it in Vale somewhere, I think. It’s got nothing to do with fish… or getting arrested. We could play cards or something when we get home if you want.”

Yang couldn’t stop the genuine smile growing on her face. Bad puns, she missed that.

His gaze returned to the footpath, more relaxed than before. Her smile faltered then. A talk was in order, one that she wasn’t sure she could broach. She wanted to make him more comfortable, show him his efforts wouldn’t be met with hostility. Today would be the beginnings of it, but there was something still on her mind that she needed to be rid of.

Her heart and head were heavy. It’s not about what she wanted to do, but what she needed to do.

* * *

**_[6]_ **

The door closed immediately silencing the howling winds. During the last leg of their hike back home, the weather had seemingly taken a turn for the worse. Yang was aware beforehand, with the dull ache in her limb. Now they were back in the comfort of their abode, and Taiyang was thanking his lucky stars for central heating. Patch was known for cold spells in early spring, and he had no want to return to the cold embrace of nature. 

Yang, on the other hand, felt something leaden settle in her stomach as she turned to meet his gaze. Her father was in the middle of shrugging off his coat when she hitched her breath and practically vomited out the words, “Can we talk?”

With a start, he paused and took a moment to catch the words. Slipping his arm out of the last sleeve, he set his coat on the rack and took a tentative step towards her nodding. The undercurrent of tension had never really left that day. There was still some air about the two of them that never really settled, even after the calm of the hours past. Everything seemed accounted for, though, he’d been patient with her today, they bonded over a sore subject, and she even accompanied him to the grave. Today was a lot for both parties. He’d figured Yang would have retired after all of it. Yet, something was still off. He started to mentally brace himself, this had not come out of nowhere, but he still was at a loss for what exactly she was about to lay on him.

“I’m sorry about this morning,” she began quietly, averting her gaze to look at her feet. She felt it then, his confusion, then the familiar embarrassment rising in her chest. Bloody fantastic start, barely starting and already he’d be looking at her like that again.

Some time passed before the mustered up enough courage to look in his direction again. Instead of finding that piteous stare again, Taiyang looked taken aback. He fidgeted with his hands, before finding his pockets. It seemed unexpected, like it was news as much to Yang as it was to him. His features softened as his shoulders relaxed, and he found his words after a beat.

“Don’t be,” he stated calmly, shifting his weight. 

Silence persisted, and Yang realized she hit a wall before anything had really progressed. This shouldn’t be this difficult. She’d had all day to prepare, act out, smooth things over, and put it off. Her body wanted to bolt away then and there, just leave the threads dangling and go to her room. Her mind had sunk its heels in deep and had other plans. The blonde’s remaining arm tugged the coat tighter around her. Breathing in sharply, she decided to push on. Now or never, rain or shine, this was going to happen. Whether she liked it or not.

“Do you remember when you found me,” she began tersely, “o-out in the shed after—”

A word caught in her throat then. Mom. Yang swallowed her hesitation hard and plowed forward. “…after she died?”

She would have felt lighter, were it not for the air of the room growing dense at her uttering of the words. Taiyang went a little stiff, studying her warily. He opened his mouth to say something but shut it almost immediately. A hand came up to the back of his neck and he gave an awkward cough to clear his throat. She had been frank but she didn’t expect him to take this long to articulate some kind of answer. Granted, he hadn’t exactly been talkative since she broached the subject. Yang herself shifted uncomfortably, disconcerted.

“Uh, yeah,” he answered finally.

“I wasn’t crying for her….” Her eyes darted in every direction but his, and her hand had come up to meet a bevy of tears. She wasn’t certain just how bad it was until her next words came out choked and sorrowful, “…I was crying for you!”

There was silence then, for a long time. Nothing but the noise of the breeze outside and the gentle creaking of the old house. A bridge had been crossed, one that Yang had been so careful to keep wrapped up and put away. Saying it should have been an easy invitation to continue and say her peace, but with every step she felt like she was sinking. She’d stopped again, perhaps of her own volition, or from her tears smothering her words. It was out there now, and had she not been trying to stifle her tears she’d notice the confusion on his face melt into something of pain bleeding into concern. The blonde kept her eyes downcast, the prospect of looking up rousing something she’d been getting familiar with lately. When calm finally came, she realized then and there just what it was. Fear.

She wasn’t sure why, or of who, or of what, but she was afraid then. Like someone had wrapped a cold hand around her heart and pulled so tight every beat felt constricted. Her limbs felt confined, too. Yang had done it, gotten her foot in the door so to speak, so why now did it feel so wrong? This was too much, way, way too much.

Her mind started to race then, blood pounding in her ears. What was she so scared of? That he would curl in on himself again? Leave her alone to sort through her problems? Abandon her when he realized she’d only push him away? The next words whispered by that little voice in her head shook her to her core. 

_It was all possible._

The floor came up to meet her then, along with some distant voice that she could swear was calling her name. She was being irrational, she had to be. But some small part of her agreed with everything. Anger burned somewhere, loathing accompanying it. She wanted to reprimand herself, and a part also wanted to give in and listen. She swallowed hard, trying to get some purchase above all the roiling. Raven left, Summer was gone, even Ruby took off when given the chance. Even her own partner turned heel after Beacon’s fall. Why would this be any different? Taiyang only put up with her, and she treated him like dirt. Somewhere between it all, her eyes had come to meet his face. He was on his knees holding both her shoulders, saying something. Yang realized her ears were ringing then and her stomach was threatening to surrender its contents. 

Stumbling to get her feet under her, she muttered something about needing something and felt her bodyweight shifting unsteadily as he tried to brace her. The blonde was too preoccupied riding a wave of nausea to acknowledge Taiyang’s frantic questions. Some way, she managed to make it to the bathroom and hovered over the bowl of the toilet. Though her vision was swimming, she could still make out the features of her father’s face as he came into view. His eyes were wide, somewhere between horror and worry, mouth agape. 

_You’re being a burden._

She wretched harshly. So harshly that she heard her father wince from behind her as the ringing faded out. Yang felt the cold of the porcelain against her forehead and screwed her eyes shut. There was still a tangle sitting in her gut, and she began to pull her knees up to her chest as she scooted her back up against the wall. Her head rested on her knees, and her arm was tightly fastened around it as if to keep her from coming apart from the inside out. 

It was always a problem with her. She was always causing some issue for him. It should have been simple, a simple talk, simple resolution, simple recovery. Yang wanted to disappear. What person couldn’t even have a simple conversation without losing their mind? Who was scared of something so benign? Apparently, this idiot was. How was anyone supposed to react when she was this bad? If she were in his place she’d—

Yang felt a hand on her shoulder then, featherlight in touch. She felt some clarity being halted in her train of self-deprecation. Though her head was still bowed, she could feel his disturbed gaze upon her.

“Panic attack?”

She nodded curtly.

“Okay, just sit still. Breath for me,” Taiyang forced some warmth into his unsettled voice. Yang did so, her stiffness doing nothing to mask the severe shaking. Her breaths, though controlled, were ragged and tinged with urgency. Fear was storming now, and any articulate thoughts were swallowed by the sea of her mind. Though she knew she was on the ground, she felt the room spinning. It made her stomach churn once more.

She needed something to hold her down, an anchor. Yang threw her remaining hand out rather violently, smacking into something that gave a shriek of surprise. She tensed immediately, realizing she’d just hit her father, before an overwrought wave quashed it. Yang latched onto him, possibly his forearm from what she could sense. Taiyang was completely still, possibly processing Yang’s feverish moves. She made a note to apologize for it later, it could wait— this was more important. It was stable, and at this time that’s what she needed to hold her there.

Yang was safe, and though it would take some time to quell the torrent inside, logically she knew she was alright. And that was enough. She focused on breathing, fingers like a vice, and head pressed so hard to her knees she could feel a headache emerging. Time was moving, and the two sat there for several heavy minutes. Her breathing had plateaued, and a small inkling of shame wormed its way inward. 

Shuffling over tiles could be heard, and she felt Taiyang settle beside her, somewhere between reaching out and settling down he’d moved her hand into his. Holding hands with her dad like some lost child. It was pathetic. All of this over mere words. What a coward. 

Yang balked at that, wrenching her hand free and pulling away. Which she immediately regretted. He was trying to help, and she was pushing him away attempting to keep some semblance of dignity after having a meltdown like that? Suddenly she was at an impasse, and it only made her all the more incensed. She didn’t understand herself.

“Yang?”

_I don’t mean to push you away._

_I don’t know what I’m supposed to feel._

“I’m fine.” It surfaced as more of a weak whimper than anything, hardly convincing. She pulled a hand up to cover her face, staring off in the direction opposite to his. There was no point in hiding it, but meeting his gaze wasn’t something she was quite ready for. She sniffled, finding something down the hall to lose herself in. It was easier if she could feel like she wasn’t there.

“I’m sorry. God, I’m so sorry,” she said in a wavering voice. “It sucks, I hate this, I hate putting you through this!” She threw her hand up for effect, but it came out in a weak arc, causing her to sag against the wall. Yang realized she felt drained along with feeling stupid. She could only imagine the look on his face, he was probably disappointed as well. 

Out of her peripheral, she saw him come into view. He didn’t grace her with a withering look at all. He looked anxious, tinged with that damn pity. Way to go. She could feel that mountain of dread becoming insurmountable with every second. 

“None of this is your fault—”

“Stop it, please.” It came out in a desperate rush.

“Yang, listen to me!”

“No! You listen!”

In hindsight, her growing lividity had bled into those words a little too much for her liking. Nonetheless, it was spat out with enough acid to make her forget about the bile’s aftertaste. She was furious, mostly with herself. She’d gotten into this mess by opening up that one door, it was now or never to take that step in. Yang took a deep breath to steady her voice. The last thing she wanted was to work herself up again and repeat events passed. She could handle this. 

“Please, don’t look at me like that.” Her voice broke then, becoming uneasy and thick.

_I know I’m a mess._

“I don’t need pity. I’m j-just trying to figure it out… I know I push you away, I’m trying to reach out, I really am! But sometimes—I feel like it’s too much on you—that I’m too much, and I worry that you’ll—”

The rest died before it could pass her lips. Yang was holding back a sob, trying to force the last out before she caved altogether. 

“… just give me more time, I need to figure some things out….” The girl succumbed to it, wiping viciously at her eyes and suddenly overcome with a maelstrom she couldn’t hope to sort through. 

_I don’t know what to do._

She felt arms around her then. He held her tighter than she had ever felt before. It was painful, she felt ensnared, ashamed, and overwhelmingly secure. Yang buried her face in his shoulder and wept for what felt like a lifetime. 

* * *

**_[7]_ **

Taiyang remained on the cold tiles of his bathroom holding his eldest daughter for a solid half-hour. He thought everything was over with when he’d closed the front door for the last time. Now here he was holding a distraught girl in his arms running through procedures to try and rectify the situation. It wasn’t supposed to be like this, he should know how to fix this.

But he didn’t, and that frightened him more than words could say.

Her words kept running through his head. Crying for him? Worried he would do what? He regretted his actions after Summer’s death. He’d had several long talks with Qrow about it on many occasions when he bothered to tolerate it. Taiyang knew his isolation was detrimental to both of his daughters, but to what degree he hadn’t fully considered. He wasn’t blind to Yang’s habits. A less optimistic part of him considered the fact she’d internalized all this because of him, and it twisted like a knife in his abdomen. He was trying now, as if that would absolve him of his past mistakes in some way.

To see her reduced to such a state tore him asunder inside. He’d suspected she was carrying around some baggage, but all of this made his heart break. It was a mess, and he felt completely powerless. Some dad he was.

He didn’t know what to do other than hold her while she cried. 

Looking back, things should have been different. When he was still a green huntsman, he was there for his teammates emotionally. As difficult as it was for the Branwen twins to open up, Taiyang managed to be there for them. It felt so easy then. He managed to get through to Raven long enough to have something other than a tenuous friendship, Yang was evidence enough of that. Even when she up and vanished he carried on, but he had Summer through it all to confide in. She was the one that the girls would turn to for help, be it a skinned knee or a fight between siblings. The ghost of a smile touched his features at the thought that he should have been taken notes all those years ago.

He made a promise to himself, and to Summer, that he would be there the next time everything fell apart. Taiyang was trying his damn hardest but fumbling at every turn. Yang deserved better, so did Ruby. 

Right.

He remembered that look of bewilderment on her face just after she’d woken up. The floor was practically ripped out from underneath her. Ruby had woken up to the wonderful news that Beacon was in shambles, her team was in pieces, and her own sister had taken a hit that would leave her “needing some time.” Ha, some time. His poor kid was a mess even months after it all, no thanks to him. Giving her enough space wasn’t a bad idea, but to be as absent as he had been was far from doing her any favors. She was crying out the whole time and he was too worried about overstepping to notice. 

He recalled that shrill, nearing inarticulate voice, “Please, don’t look at me like that.”

Taiyang would have loved to laugh then, a humorless, morose laugh. She was better in the sense that she was talking, but in the context of today, he felt like it was five steps backward. Five steps backward off a bridge plummeting into a raging river, that is. He resolved to chastise himself later, what mattered now is getting her on the first steps to the mend. Things would be different, they had to be. 

Carefully pulling away, he noticed a firm wrinkle in his shirt where she’d been latched on. Yang had settled now, though her head was still buried in his shoulder. Save for her slowed breathing, she still seemed wound tight. Gingerly, he tried calling her name.

Nothing.

He tried again, an uncertain knot beginning to form in his stomach. This time she gave a small nod. Taiyang took her shoulders in his hands and swayed her more upright, her lack of protest was anything but comforting. She met his gaze with a glassy one, but otherwise calm.

“Why don’t we move you to the sofa,” less of a question and more of a statement, as he was already hoisting her up. 

Once situated in the living room with a box of tissues to her side and a blanket around her, Yang looked more exhausted than anything. Her hair was a tousled mess, with her ponytail barely hanging on. Taiyang had sat on the other end of the sofa, weighing exactly what to say to her. As if there was even anything he could say at this moment. Apologize for not being there? Ask her if she’d be alright now? Was space appropriate now?

No, that would just be like before. Now was the time to step up, she needed an adult now. But what to say—

“What did you want to talk about?”

The words practically fell out of his mouth faster than he could clamp his jaw shut. He wanted to recoil then, that was just an open invitation for things to go further awry. Taiyang knew that wasn’t the right move, not by a long shot. _Shit, shit, shit—_

“That blew chunks, literally,” Yang stated sardonically.

Okay, so maybe forwardness was not a total loss.

Her voice was weak from wear, and her shoulders sagged. Yang drew her legs up to her chest and rested her head back. Taiyang released the breath he had been holding in unconsciously. Silence persisted for a beat before the blonde snapped her eyes open.

“I’m sorry… about all of this.”

Again, with the apologies.

Her father opened his mouth to respond, before she straightened her posture and looked dead at him. She looked positively defeated.

“I didn’t mean to do that,” she began reproachfully. “I-I never meant for it to—,” she froze, then lifted her hand for effect, causing the blanket to fall off her left shoulder, “—for it to be like this at all…”

Yang’s voice wavered, evident that it was getting difficult for her to speak. Yet she still pushed on, “I tried to just—I had… something to tell you, but I messed it up.” She began curling in on herself, voice becoming nearly a whisper.

“Why do you even put up with me…?”

Barely audible, but he caught that. His blood ran cold in his veins, and he felt his mouth go dry.

“Yang…”

Her hand rested on her face and she drew away, eyes averting.

“Yang.”

He was on his feet before he knew it. His daughter curled in more, head pitching forward. Taiyang planted himself beside her, taking her forearm in his hand and pulling her towards him. One hand hooked beneath her chin and drew her eyes to meet his wroth ones.

**_“Stop it.”_ **

The blonde’s eyes widened, face flushing as she wrenched her jaw free. She wriggled free of his grasp, sliding back into the cushions until her back felt the hard frame of the couch. She was squarely flustered. Taiyang sighed, that was only going to grow worse for what he was to do next.

“Stop saying that. You don’t need to apologize for anything,” he snapped. His anger leveled off into something more composed, though no less assertive. “More importantly, I don’t ‘put up with you’. I’m _your father_ , Yang. I care about you. And you’ve got to _stop_ thinking like that!”

Yang’s eyes suddenly found the floor very interesting, a wan frown on her face. Were he not in the middle of chastising her, he would have celebrated the return of her blatant stubbornness. He sighed, leaning back no less rigid than before holding the bridge of his nose. She eyed him warily, opening her mouth to say something before he cut in.

“Look, I didn’t mean to come off mad. I’m not, just—”

“Disappointed?”

“N-no! _Worried_.”

The word alone seemed to take her by surprise, which made his heart lurch painfully. Almost as quickly as it surfaced, her eyes hardened.

“Stop looking at me like that! I don’t need your pity…”

Taiyang looked agape at her, disbelieving. He breathed in sharply, holding up both hands as if surrendering.

“Okay, _yeesh_ , wrong foot!”

With a weighty sigh, he dropped his hands to his knees, gaze following suit. The last thing he wanted to do was rile her up and wind up with an argument on his hands. A little voice in the back of his head echoed about the whole five steps backward line, that did anything but help the already intense air. Maybe it was best to disengage and try again later. 

“Look, after the day you’ve had,” he waved a hand rigidly, “I can understand if you don’t want to speak to me. We can do this later.”

“No, that’s not— it’s…,” Yang shook her head wearily. “It’s just a lot, and I feel like if I don’t say it now… I never will.”

“Yang,” he insisted.

“Dad.” She stood her ground.

The older blond gave a sidelong gawk, the absolute gall of this girl was testing his nerves now. He would be lying if he said a part of him was not proud of her persistence. Taiyang gritted his teeth, that was something she and her sister had in common with him. Yang’s features softened into something more candid.

“If you just did me a favor and listened—just listened, that would be great. Just, hear me out.” Her left hand had started working the hem of the coat still about her shoulders. Somewhere in all the chaos, she hadn’t shed the old thing. He figured she’d have abandoned it somewhere between the ruckus in the bathroom and being ported over to the living room. By the way she fiddled with it, he wasn’t sure if that was some monument to her commitment or a ball and chain all its own. Her eyes were on him again, the usual lilac dulled but piercing. Yang was waiting for an answer. Taiyang exhaled deeply, simply nodding.

At his confirmation, she had faintest rise of repose. Her eyes weren’t boring into him, and some of that apprehension seeped out. The blonde’s newfound assurance gave way to something more somber. Without further deliberation, she steeled herself.

“I see you trying to help, and I don’t want you to think that that goes unnoticed, or unappreciated. I know I’m a mess right now… There’s just so much I don’t understand—about myself I mean. I wanted to reach out— I really did. But I was in a really screwed up headspace back then, I was irrational and angry. I took it out on you and Ruby—”

Taiyang went to interject but Yang threw her hand up.

“I know you’re going to say it wasn’t my fault, I know that. It doesn’t change the fact I was acting like a jerk. It’s a lot, and I’m trying to change it up because it’s not working anymore. But, when I see the way you look at me, the way you carry yourself around me, you’re so careful. I feel like that gets exhausting, and that I’m just being a burden at this point.”

“I-,” she swallowed hard. 

Her voice was stiff and raspy, “I miss you. And I’m tired of making things harder than they need to be.” Yang’s left hand came to wipe the stray tears streaming down her face. “Today was a good day— a great one, actually. I mean, before all this,” she finished quickly, shaking her head.

Yang finished combating the stray drops, her head eventually inclining to look back at the floor. Taiyang regarded her blankly. The weight on her shoulders seemed gone, like she’d said some peace that broke old iron shackles. The older man worked his jaw, looking away as if to give himself some privacy.

So that was it. Or at least, the phantom most prevalent in the haunting. Taiyang’s thoughts were relatively inarticulate for a while, with an even silence growing throughout the room. He had not expected this much, but the addition of missing him tore a special hole somewhere in his being. Once more, his brilliant idea of giving her space was given new levels of horror to dwell on. His approach manifested as avoidance to her, which translated further to Yang feeling like a hindrance. Not to mention the guilt over things out of her control. She was correct, it was a lot.

His leg bounced absently as he pondered exactly how he was going to go about this. There were still a lot of questions that burned in his mind, especially the new one about that headspace she’d mentioned. _Too caught up in the details, Tai_ , he scolded himself internally. He made a note to come back to that train of thought later. His priorities now were making some things crystal clear to her.

“Yang, you’re recovering. It’s… not a one and done thing. Plus, I messed up, too.”

He rolled his head in a reserved fashion, solemn look on his face. His daughter gave a sniffle and lightly dabbed a tissue near her eyes, red from crying. Yang’s hand retreated into her lap, legs now crossed. 

“I haven’t exactly made it easy for you.” The blonde’s voice had forced steadiness.

“That doesn’t change the fact that I should have been there.”

He couldn’t tell if her silence was to agree or disagree. Taiyang refused to look at her face, instead leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees, wringing his hands together.

“Can we just agree that things are pretty, uh….”

“Fucked,” she drawled.

“Yeah,” he gave a small nod. “At this rate, we’ll need a swear jar.”

There was no humor in his tone, the statement just a glum buffer.

“From here on out,” he straightened his posture, finally rising to meet her eyes, “I want you to come to me if you have issues. Confide in me. You do that—.” Taiyang gestured to himself with a smile of sorts. “… and I’ll feel a lot more comfortable. I can’t read minds. If you work with me, we can figure it out.”

“I will,” Yang said.

He wrapped his arm around her shoulder, pulling her into a side hug. Yang leaned into him feeling like a lead weight, head lulling slightly. A different silence grew now, like the faint rustle of the trees outside. A mix of dread and relief lapped at the edges of his mind. The road ahead was clear, and if both parties were willing, things would get easier. He would hold Yang to her word.

* * *

**_[8]_ **

Yang’s nights had always been loud in a sense. Not loud in terms of the house, which was always quiet in a serene sort of way, but in her head. Usually, they were dark places with shadowy and indistinct faces. Sometimes there were whispers or the rare scream that kept her in abject horror. It was a tango of tossing and turning, fading in and out. Sometimes, she greeted the sun. True sleep came usually after wrestling demons back into their cages or just giving into exhaustion when it became too much. She did her best to fight it at first, but it wore her ragged and she wound up with a discombobulated sleep schedule.

All that noise was absent last night.

In fact, she had slept in long enough to skip the sunrise altogether. She felt happy about that. Less happy at the realization her hair was in knots from sleeping with a hair tie in. The blonde ran a hand through the golden tresses in a miserable attempt to detangle it. One finger caught a snag that pulled her head and made her wince. Through watery eyes, she caught a shock of a vivid yellow. Freeing her hand and clearing her eyes, she studied the object that wasn’t on her nightstand the day before.

A small glass bottle with a little maypop stared her dead in the face. The center looked more saturated, especially the purple bordering it. It looked like the essence of vitality, freshly cut for certain. Maybe out of the context of a bouquet, these flowers were best appreciated on their own. She was starting to sound like her father.

Yang swung her legs off the bed to meet the floor, scooping the bottle up on her way out the door. She practically floated down the stairs into the kitchen. Her father was already at the table, cards from the recipe box about its surface. A plate off to his right with a half-eaten wrap of some kind told her it was about lunchtime. Yang sighed and placed the glass container down in the center of the table, it gave a ring upon meeting the surface.

She took a seat, doing her best to fend off a grin. That drew a suspicious look from her father, who quickly regarded the flask before smirking.

“You are such a dork.”

“Takes one to know one, firecracker!”

She decided then, that yes, from here on out, things would get better. 

Yang had faith in that.


End file.
